Snapshots of Cicadas, and Other Things
by kappamaki
Summary: Disjointed moments in time portraying one cohesive relationship. Atobe and An one-shot. Light RyomaSakuno, MomoAn, and SengokuTomoko.


_Summary:_ Disjointed moments in time portraying one cohesive relationship. AtobeAn one-shot. Light RyomaSakuno, MomoAn, and SengokuTomoko.

_A/N:_ This fic jumps backward and forward in time, and I wouldn't suggest trying to follow it by any definite time frame... it's really just a collection of moments.

**Snapshots of Cicadas, and Other Things**

Cicadas really were stupid. Tachibana An watched, camera in hands and not two inches away from her face, as one flew into a tree and fell with a plop onto the ground. It twitched there, legs in the air, and An wasn't sure if it was alive or dying.

"It gets pretty noisy around these parts," said their guide, as they trekked through some marshland in a small state named Maryland. The cacophony of what must have been tens of thousands of cicadas in their mating ritual buzzed in the air, and An could see areas where the ground was literally covered in a foot-thick blanket of bugs.

"Is it okay to get close?" An asked, her English only lightly accented. Atobe had taught her how to speak English once, years ago, and Atobe's English was perfect.

"That's fine, they won't run away or anything. Too dumb to."

An nodded and crept towards a tree, her assistant following her with a heavy bag slung over his shoulders. She zoomed in on a solitary bug perched on a green branch, and soon the click click of her camera added to the already present noise. But, she thought, a winged, red-eyed lump caught in her lenses, cicadas really were kind of cute.

"What a job," her assistant, an American named Joe, complained, as he swatted away any cicadas that accidentally flew into him. "I can't like begin to know what National Geographic wants with some bug photos anyway."

An smiled, knowing Joe would rather be in the Himalayas or otherwise exotic locale, taking breathtaking shots of scenery. "They only come out every seventeen years… we should feel lucky that we get to shoot them."

"Says you. I guess they don't have cicadas back in Japan, but I grew up in like West Virginia. I've seen cicadas like more than a few times in my life."

An rolled her eyes, knowing that Joe was only twenty-four. The last time he had seen cicadas like these, he must have been five. As for her, she didn't mind the assignment in the least. She had discovered photography during her high school years, all thanks to her friendship with Seigaku's Fuji Syusuke, and had developed quite the knack for it. Now, at twenty-two years and having just graduated from college, she felt immeasurably lucky that National Geographic had actually wanted to hire her as a photographer.

She remembered when she had shown Atobe her first real camera, her second year of high school. Well, she hadn't exactly shown him, as much as she had brought the camera to the street tennis courts and he had been there. He still frequented his childhood haunts, even though he was a senior in high school and already playing professional tennis. The new wave of Japanese tennis, magazines were calling them, people like Atobe, Tezuka, and Echizen. It wouldn't be long until the rest of the world took notice of Japan's rising stars.

"What's this?" Atobe had asked, his eyebrow arched imperiously. "Is it to take pictures of me?"

"Hardly," An had snorted, focusing the camera on the pairs that were playing on the court. "Fuji gave it to me."

"Fuji Syusuke?"

"What other Fuji is there?"

"Fuji Yuuta."

An had blinked, her camera momentarily forgotten. "Oh. Right."

Atobe had plucked the camera right out of her hands, to which she had given an exasperated gasp. He played with it for a few moments, ignoring her protests, and had finally startled her by taking her picture, the flash going off not one foot from her face. At which point she had complained that he had blinded her.

"Hardly," he had said, in imitation of her earlier haughty tone. He tossed the camera back to her and started walking away, looking back only to toss one last comment her way. "You will give me a copy, won't you? Of the picture I took?"

She had given it to him, but that wasn't until almost a year after the incident.

Back in the present, the cicadas had already been forgotten, and An and Joe were on their way to their next assignment, photographing a new species of butterfly in Puerto Rico. They were carting their luggage into Dulles Airport, waiting in line in the spacious grey terminal, the glass walls stretching upwards to impossible heights above them. An held, as usual, a single backpack. Joe dragged, as usual, a huge piece of luggage atop two tiny wheels.

"How can you travel so light?" Joe asked, his words coming out in short gasps thanks to the fact that he was already out of breath from pulling his baggage up a very long ramp.

An only shrugged.

"You know, we'll be in Puerto Rico for like six months. It'll be like your home, you should act like it. Like me, I have like everything that means anything to me in this suitcase, and I'm going to have my family send me more stuff."

An tugged on the band of her backpack. Almost everything that meant anything to her _was _in her backpack; it contained almost everything she owned. "Home? No. It's not my home."

An remembered the Valentine's Day after she had met Atobe Kiego. She was a cute girl, and she was friendly, so she had ended up receiving quite a few valentines, flowers, and chocolates that day. So much so that she enlisted Kamio to help her carry them. She thought that he looked funny, trying to walk while buried under shades of white, pink, and red, but she hadn't said anything. After all, he was doing her a favor. They had just left the school when An stopped in her tracks, Kamio stumbling a few steps ahead of her.

"What's wrong, An? Why'd you stop?" Kamio looked back, saw that An was staring at something ahead of them, and tried in vain to peek over the pile in his arms toward what it was. He didn't have to wonder for long, though, when Atobe's distinctive voice glided through the air. After all, no one's voice was quite as regal and commanding as Atobe Kiego's.

"An-chan," was all he stated, but Kamio could somehow tell he was smirking from his tone of voice. "Kabaji."

"Usu."

Kabaji strode forward, holding out a giant heart-shaped box of what must have chocolates towards An. She didn't want it, not if it was from Atobe, and wasn't going to take it, but Kabaji just kept standing there with it in his outstretched arms. An suspected he would keep holding it out to her, simply because Atobe had ordered him to, and took pity on the rather dim boy. After she took it Kabaji and Atobe started walking away, but then Atobe stopped and turned back, his arm swooping in a majestic gesture until it was pointed at An. An felt the move was a little theatrical, but Atobe's use of theatrics could rival Shishido Ryou's any day. The move he had named Insight was, after all, comprised solely of him holding his hand in front of his face. As if that could help him see other players' weaknesses.

"Tachibana An!" he called. "You may not like me now, but I'll keep chasing you until you do!"

An rolled her eyes as Atobe strode into the sunset. Atobe Kiego was the kind of guy that was forever striding into the sunset. She looked over at Kamio, expecting his brotherly instincts towards her to kick in, but finding him nonplussed.

"Don't you mind?" she asked.

Kamio shrugged. "Hey. At least he's not Momoshiro."

Later on An opened the box, and found that it was not full of chocolates at all. It was, in fact, and empty box, with just two sentences written in the back, in beautiful, sprawling cursive letters. The beginning of a story.

_From Plato's Symposium.__ Once, long ago, humans were in the shape of one rounded whole, with two heads, four legs, and four arms, all joined at their bellies._

An looked at the sentence questioningly, but put it aside to go through all her other chocolates. Every year, on every Valentine's day, it was the same thing. Kabaji would hunt her down with a huge empty box, obviously from Atobe, and it would always contain yet another line of a story. And Atobe would make his presence known in her life during the rest of the year as well.

In An's third junior high year, during the week she was studying for high school entrance exams, An would come home late from the library to find fresh, gourmet coffee sitting on her desk. The next morning she would drowsily question her mother, and her answer was always the same. That very nice, very good looking boy with the mole on his upper cheek had brought it over. What a thoughtful boy, her mother would gush.

When they found themselves at the street tennis court together, Atobe would always have something to say to her, even if half the time she completely ignored him. The other half of the time she was just irritated. And whenever Fudoumine played Hyoutei, Atobe would look over, smile, and wish her good luck. As if he actually wanted Fudoumine to win. As if Fudoumine could actually beat Hyoutei, now that they weren't being underestimated. It was just too cruel, in An's mind.

During her freshman year, An had dated Momoshiro for a few months, and Atobe had pretty much left her alone. Her dating Momo seemed inevitable, the two had only wondered why they had waited so long. After all, they had crushes on one another ever since they had met really, back in their second year, and there had always been a lot of flirtation between them. It only took them a few months, though, to realize that they were just too similar for a relationship to work. And, though An would never admit it, it was disconcerting to go to the street tennis courts, see Atobe there, and then not have him come over to say hello. The day after the she and Momo broke up she ended up at those courts, and had sat down silently next to Atobe on the bench, adjusting the strings on her racket with petite fingers.

"Mizuki and Yuuta want to play doubles, but I don't have a partner."

An didn't have to ask, because Atobe understood. She wanted him to play with her. "Why isn't Momoshiro here with you?"

"We broke up."

"Aa. I'll play." Both of them were still facing forward, avoiding looking at it each other, but Atobe couldn't help the smile that snuck up into one corner of his mouth at that moment.

So their strange relationship continued, Atobe chasing, An too proud to be caught.

An's second year of high school, she found herself failing English. She never failed anything, but her duties at Fudoumine's girls tennis club had taken her time away from school, and English always was her worse subject. Instead of giving up street tennis, though, she decided to bring her school work to the courts. Atobe found her one afternoon bent over a binder and pile of papers, pausing in her writing to look up at the match that was being played out on the courts. He looked over her shoulder.

"A 'D'?" Atobe frowned. "I thought you were smart."

An turned a deep crimson from shame and anger. "I am!"

Atobe leaned forward even more, eyes tracing over the essay she was correcting. "And it's so easy too."

"You know English?" An didn't know why she was surprised; Atobe Kiego seemed to be perfect at everything he did, and seemed to know how to do everything.

"Among several languages. I can teach you."

For the next month An and Atobe spent nearly every free minute together, and he spoke nothing to her but English. At the end she was nearly fluent.

"Well, 'like' is technically a verb," Atobe was explaining one night, as he walked An to her window. Her parents, after all, would not take to kindly to the fact that she was spending late nights with a boy, even if it was only to study English. It was much easier to sneak out after dinner, then sneak back in again, via the window of her first floor bedroom. "But Americans use it in every sentence, sometimes multiple times. Somewhat like a verbal pause. Like, when they, like, talk, they, like, talk like this."

An laughed. "I don't believe you. That's just too silly sounding."

"It's true! Am I ever wrong?"

"No," An admitted, climbing into her bedroom, perched between the inside and the outside. "But I wouldn't put it past you to lie."

Atobe smiled. "That would be wise of you."

An tensed then, because Atobe was just looking at her, just staring at her, and she thought that maybe he would try to kiss her. She got ready, in case she would have to push him off, or slap him, because she didn't want him to kiss her... really, she didn't. And though he would have liked to kiss her, he didn't. Instead...

"Well," said Atobe, his voice a little softer than usual. "Good night."

 "Good night, Atobe." And her voice was just a little softer as well.

"Will you never call me Kiego?'

An starting a little at the familiarity behind those words, but then smiled. Her words lingered on the curtains even after she retreated to the darkness of her bedroom. "Kiego just doesn't suit you, Atobe."

That year was also the year that the Valentine's Day story was finished.

_From Plato's Symposium.__ Once, long ago, humans were in the shape of one rounded whole, with two heads, four legs, and four arms, all joined at their bellies. They were blissful in their state; so blissful, in fact, that they forgot to give due sacrifice to the Gods of __mount__Olympus__. Zeus, as punishment, decided to split them in half, and thus they would remain for the rest of time. Even today, humans go through their lives forever searching for the other half of themselves that was torn apart so many years ago, and can only be truly happy when they are whole again. _

Her last year of high school, An's brother was in Tokyo for University, and Atobe was in Oxford part time while he was astounding the professional tennis circuit. Of all the students in the Tokyo region that An had grown up with, Atobe, Tezuka, Echizen, and Sanada were the only ones who had taken professional tennis up as a calling. Sanada and Echizen had decided to give up University altogether for their tennis careers, while Tezuka had joined Atobe at Oxford for the same five-year bachelor's program.

In that year, An had been forced to finally admit it. She missed seeing Atobe at the street tennis courts. She missed seeing him at the tennis matches. She missed his arrogance, his teasing, and though she could watch him in tournaments on television, it just wasn't the same. On Valentine's day, An walked through her classes in a daze, half expecting Kabaji to appear with a heart-shaped box, though Kabaji was off at college himself. And, after all, the story was finished. The thought of it only reminded An of how empty she had felt throughout the year, with no word from Atobe, and it dug at her like someone digging into an open wound. She had to admit that she had been horribly stupid. Maybe if she had said something, had done something, she would have been lucky enough to be holding another empty box that day.

She consoled herself as she went to bed, telling herself not to dream about arrogant bastards that were much to good looking for their own good. It was hard getting to sleep though, with the tap tap of branches sounding against her window. The wind must have been getting stronger and stronger, because the sound kept getting louder, until finally An jumped out of bed in anger. She marched over to the window, fully intending to cut off that damned tree branch, and flung open her curtains, to reveal.... Atobe Kiego tapping on her window? She quickly yanked open her window.

"Atobe?"

"You didn't think I'd break tradition, did you?" He held out a large, heart-shaped box.

An took the box, her fingers brushing against his own, smiling as she opened it. It was filled with chocolates. She didn't know if she should be disappointed or not. She looked up at Atobe, confused.

Atobe smirked and shrugged. He always did enjoy throwing people off their game. "I felt bad about all the empty boxes I gave you in the past. I felt you deserved some real chocolates."

"Thanks... I guess. Though I think I prefer the empty boxes."

"Aa. I'll be sure to keep that in mind from now on."

They smiled at each other, and An realized. This was the time for her to do something. She should say something. Tell him. But though it was easy enough to do in theory, An found the words would not get past her throat. So she stood, as Atobe stared at her, and waited for him to kiss her, because he looked for all the world like he wanted to. Then, she realized that there was no point in waiting for him to kiss her. She just wasn't that kind of girl. So she kissed him.

At that moment, the Earth should have moved. Fireworks should have gone off. But because this was only reality, nothing happened. Tell that to two fumbling students though, kissing awkwardly under a moonlit breeze, and they wouldn't have believed you.

It wasn't An's first kiss, but it was the only one that mattered.

In a pre-furnished apartment in Puerto Rico, a twenty-two-year-old An unpacked her belongings. It took her less than ten minutes. A few sets of clothes and a framed photograph were all she owned. Outside her window, the wind seemed to whisper, pleading _"wait"_, as if there was actually a chance she wouldn't have.

Years ago, when it had come time for An to enroll in University, she had been ecstatic to have been accepted into New York University. She had always wanted to go to New York City, live there for a few years, photograph the skyscrapers and millions of people that passed through. Her family was sad to see her go so far away, but supportive. Atobe held no preference as to where she went to school, as long as she was happy, because as he put it, "wherever you go, it's only a plane flight away from me".

So she had gone to New York, had loved it, and had discovered that Atobe wasn't lying when he told her about Americans and their use of the word "like'. She kept in touch with Sakuno, who had really blossomed in high school and then college. She was no longer the shy girl from her middle school days... in fact, she had developed into quite a feminist. She had even written a best selling book while still in college, entitled "My Life as a Prepubescent Fangirl", in which she described just how she went from a bumbling adolescent who had joined the tennis club just because the boy she liked enjoyed tennis to the strong woman she was today.

One night after the book came out, Sakuno was back in their home town, and had stumbled across a drunken Echizen. The boy was drunk after a night of celebrations with old friends, but one thing had led to another and somehow they had ended up playing a tennis match... it reminded An of junior high, when everything seemed to end up in a tennis match. Sakuno actually beat him. Granted, he was drunk and about to pass out, and was playing with his right hand, whose connecting wrist was sprained, but still. After that it had been Echizen to chase Sakuno instead of the other way around, though Sakuno let herself be caught fairly easily. Of course, Sakuno never won another tennis match against her new boyfriend, who made sure never to play a tennis match while throwing up again.

They married early, and Atobe and An had gone to their wedding. A distraught Tomoko was crying about how she was "always a bridesmaid and never a bride", though she was only nineteen or twenty at the time. Lucky Sengoku cheered her up though when he asked her to dance, and said that he thought she was prettier than any other girl at the wedding, a comment to which Atobe took great offense. An had caught the bouquet without even trying, being seated next to the crowd of girls who were vying for the white roses. On the car ride home the event sparked a conversation about marriage between Atobe and An. An had declared, still holding the bouquet, that she would not get married before the age of thirty, because it was a waste of youth to do otherwise. Atobe had laughed and remarked "how typical of you".

An guessed, though, that all wonderful things had to have their bad moments. Sakuno had told her once, trying to sound wise, that no matter how equal the relationship, the female almost always sacrificed more than the male. It was just the way their society worked. She had asked her mother, the high priced lawyer, and she had completely agreed. In a matter of fact voice she had stated that was just the way it was.

It happened one day in An's New York City dorm room, as she lay in crisp, white sheets with her boyfriend. She always did love the feel and look of white satin, even though it was an unforgiving color to decorate her dorm room with. Atobe was, as he tended to do these days, staring off into space. An traced patterns on his bare shoulder, knowing exactly what was wrong, though he had never told her.

As predicted, the new wave of Japanese tennis had taken the international scene by storm. Tezuka and Echizen had become quite the rivals. Although Echizen had finally beaten Tezuka at the end of his junior high career, the defeat only caused Tezuka to grow as a player, until he could defeat Echizen again. Their rivalry continually spurred each other on to higher peaks of greatness. The press made a great deal out of the two, speaking of the rivals with limitless potential. The two climbed higher and higher, until they stood far out of sight of any other tennis players. Atobe Kiego was left at the wayside. But Atobe Kiego was not the kind of person who could be happy being left behind.

He had always been perfect at everything he did, but now he wasn't. He felt as though it were pointless for him to stay in the professional tennis circuit, if he did not stand a chance at being the best. But without tennis, what did he have? Without tennis, what was he?

"An," Atobe said, his voice shaking, as he caught the hand that had been fluttering on his shoulder, "I need to go find myself. I need to go away for awhile. Will you wait for me?"

An closed her eyes. To her, it was a ridiculous statement. Why did Atobe need to go away to find himself? She blamed it on new age philosophies, which spouted romantic notions about finding out who you really were, about metaphysical journeys and spiritual awakenings.

An realized why women were always sacrificing more than men. It was because men were insecure. It's why they cheated, why they had midlife crises. And women had to be secure enough for both of them.

In this case, Atobe was also stupid, An reasoned. Because she had already found herself. She had found herself, Valentine's day night, her senior year of high school, and Atobe was too stupid to realize that.

Still, as soon as he had asked the question, she knew what her answer would be. She wondered if Sakuno would be disappointed in her. She wondered if she should be disappointed in herself.

"Of course I'll wait for you."

The next night Atobe left, without telling any one where he had gone off to.

The Puerto Rican assignment was done with, and now National Geographic wanted pictures of some tribes in the mountains of Vietnam. They were at the airport again. An held, as usual, a single backpack. Joe dragged, somehow, two huge pieces of luggage atop two sets of tiny wheels.

"It must be nice, not having so much stuff to lug around," Joe remarked, "it's like you're free from all this materialistic crap."

"Yeah... free." An's tone wasn't what could be called relieved.

"You know we'll be in Vietnam for like longer than we were in Puerto Rico. Maybe you should make yourself a little more comfortable there? I don't want to go through the whole home spiel again, but that's what it's going to be really. A temporary home."

An shrugged, not paying any heed to Joe's words. Her home wasn't in Vietnam. Her home had left her, one night while she was still in college. And until he came back again, she'd be traveling light.


End file.
